The ravine eventually falls away to a gentle slope, trees fencing us in on either side. Sometimes I catch glimpses of green plains beneath us, but the hills rise and fall around our path, obscuring the view. It will still take a day or two more just to make it out of the hills, I’d hazard, and that’s nothing to say for how far away the city might be beyond that. It’s beginning to dawn on me that I never would have made it in time by myself.

“I’ll be making a camp for the night,” Zyneth says as red splashes of sunset drip between the canopy. “We’re nearing the edge of the Spire’s reach, so I doubt we’ll run into any trouble out here. Do you need to rest?”

“NO,” I circle.

“Well that makes one of us,” Zyneth says, smiling faintly. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait for me to wake, then. Unless you intend to carry on alone.”

Just the idea of spending eight hours twiddling my glass without anything to do to occupy my time makes me feel antsy. But we covered at least four times the ground I would have made today on my own. Even if I started walking now, he’d probably catch up to me in the morning. Waiting is the right move.

“NO,” I circle again. “NEED YOUR HELP. THANKS.”

“That’s settled, then,” he says, eyes roaming over the woods. “Give me a tap if you see a decent clearing, would you?”

“YES.” If I had any idea what I was looking for. Really makes me wish I’d paid better attention in Scouts as a kid.

Luckily, Zyneth finds a suitable spot without my help—no surprise there—and unfurls a simple bedroll from his pack. The clearing seems to have been used as a camp in the past, as there’s a deserted and leafy firepit already set up in the middle. I watch as he clears the debris out, adds some sticks, and then sparks a fire into existence with a snap of his fingers. Showoff.

“I hope you’ll forgive me if I dine without offering you anything,” he says, removing a small wrap from his bag. “However I believe I’m not wrong in assuming you don’t eat.”

“NO THANKS.” Although I wish I could. The strange blue fruit he pulls out looks interesting. And the dried strips of orange meat intrigue me, too. What would they taste like, I wonder? Beef? Chicken? Something totally new?

“Here, I’ve something else for you.” Biting into his fruit, he casually reaches over my head and sticks his hand into the fire. I cringe, my glass flinching at the sight of his hand engulfed in flames, but he removes it a moment later with a chuckle. “Don’t worry. I’m quite fireproof. Here.”

He knocks a smoldering stick over the fire, casting embers back into the flames, then he reaches for my cheat sheet. “May I?”

I hesitantly hand over my only means of communication, curious what he has in mind. Flipping the paper over to the blank back side, he uses the charcoal to sketch some words over the paper.

“The front seemed rather full,” he says. “I should be able to add some more words here.”

Oh. Well, that’s cool. If only I could tell him which words would help. But I guess, if I could tell him that, I wouldn’t need them written in the first place.

I watch him jot down several words, including “Want,” “Homunculus,” and “Stop,” along with what appear to be several city names, given Peakshadow, Harrowood, the Black Spire, and the Petrified Groves are among them.

When he’s done, he hands the paper back over to me. “Do any of these mean anything to you?” he asks, gesturing to the city names.

I flip the paper around to circle, “YES.” Then I turn it back to point to Peakshadow and Harrowood.

“I see.” He rubs his chin, then jots down “Yes” and “No” for me on this side as well so I don’t have to keep flipping. “What lies ahead and what lies behind. You’re heading to Harrowood then?”

“YES.”

“And you came from Peakshadow?”

“YES.”

His brow creases in the faintest of frowns—or perhaps that’s just a trick of the firelight. “You’ve come a long way on your journey. The wizard that created you—they can’t offer the help you seek?”

I inwardly grimace. “NO.”

“Why is that?” Zyneth asks. “Have you become separated? Did something happen to them?”

My signing glass dips, and I hesitate over the word, “YES.” Which is more than a bit of an understatement.

Zyneth sits back, taking a bite of his dinner as he seems to ruminate over his next words. He chews. Swallows. Even though I can’t make out any pupils or irises among the uniform yellow glow of his eyes, I can still feel him watching me. “When I was passing through Peakshadow, a… disturbance occurred. I was too late to the scene to see what happened, but others spoke of a malicious shadow with a glass heart.” He emphasizes the word glass, and I tense, my mind racing. “It killed two adventurers passing through. Wounded several more. The survivors speculated it was summoned, given its abrupt appearance and departure. Did this have anything to do with what happened to your wizard?”

His words chill me. He’s putting things together far too quickly. What will he do if he finds out the shadow is connected to me? That I killed those people? He’s a powerful magic user. And even if I’m immune to his electric magic, one of his boots is more than capable of taking care of my meager hit points.

“NO,” I carefully respond.

He doesn’t take his gaze away from me. “But you know of what I speak?”

I consider lying. Somehow, I don’t think it’d convince him. “YES.”

“Because you’re involved, somehow?”

I don’t answer. That might as well be sealing my fate.

Slowly, he nods. His hand comes down, and I flinch—but he’s only reaching for his water flask. Zyneth finishes his meal before he speaks again.

“You are certainly full of mysteries,” he finally says. “Though I believe you’ve been forthright with me so far. If you won’t—or can’t—explain, I will not try to extract the answer from you. Whatever your reasons for being involved with that shadow, I don’t think you mean ill.” A faint smile ghosts his face. “In fact you seemed quite willing to jump into the jaws of a beast to save me. You have a ferocious spirit.”

A guilty spirit, maybe. But his words make me relax a modicum. I don’t think I’m in immediate danger of getting tossed in the fire, at any rate. He still seems willing to help me. I can’t peg this guy down.

“I will be getting some rest,” he says, stretching an arm behind his head. “Feel free to wake me if anything concerns you."

As Zyneth settles on his bedroll, I move part way around the fire and out of any accidental kicking range. It will be a long night with nothing to do, and stewing in my thoughts—especially surrounding Zyneth, what he might think of me, and what he might be planning—doesn’t exactly appeal to me.

First, I line up all my signing glass in a row. About half of them are now cracked, pieces missing. I can’t even remember all the places I’ve lost them: when fighting the cat, when sneaking around Peakshadow, the predator, the hail, the bonefangs. Maybe it shouldn’t matter. I’ve no one to talk to, after all. But what if I do find someone who can sign in Harrowood? It would be easier to communicate that way than my cheat sheet, at least. Maybe it’s worth the few percentage points of Void to fix them up.

At the reminder, I call on Echo for a Void Check.

[Void: 8%]

At least there’s no more surprises now that I know how it works. If I did a Sculpt, that would be 2% per item I sculpted—that could add up quick. Maybe I’ll keep that idea on the backburner for now. If I ended up using 10% a day, I would last for about nine more days before hitting the limit. Which reminds me… how many days are left on our spell?

I haven’t checked since before the void incident. The bracelet’s in my inventory, which means I can’t take it out unless I also want to put it back and risk upping the Void stat. But if the spell runs out before I’m expecting it to, that might not matter. I weigh my options.

Shit. Fuck it. It’s only 1%, and if I don’t check it and end up counting the days wrong, I’ll be dooming both Noli and I regardless. Lesser of two evils, I guess.

I remove the charmed bracelet from my inventory, and I’m immediately struck by how different it looks from what I’d remembered. Only a couple of beads had been dark before. It had still been a mostly bright and glowing bracelet. Now, half the beads have gone out.

I count out the remaining ones. Of the original twenty-one, only ten are still lit. Suddenly, a week and a half feels a lot shorter than it used to. Ten days to get to the next town, find a wizard who knows homunculus spells, and gather all the necessary supplies to save our souls. No sweat, right?

I return the bracelet to my inventory (can’t risk it breaking if I leave it out) then Check my Void stat once more.

[Void: 9%]

Well, I’d been expecting that. What am I, a masochist? Grumpily, I look around for something to take my mind off things—and catch a sliver of light dimly glowing between Zyneth’s eyelids. I jump. Is he watching me?

Zyneth chuckles, confirming my suspicion. “You act so much like a person,” he says quietly. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me the significance of that bracelet? Or how you’re able to make things vanish and appear at will?”

Not likely. I’m faintly irritated, and I’m not sure if it’s because he was spying on me, or because I didn’t notice. But Zyneth doesn’t give me a chance to head over to my cheat sheet for a reply. He stifles a yawn, then rolls over so his back is facing me.

“Apologies, little one. I shall give you some privacy. We can speak further on these matters in the morning.”

I consider flicking a piece of glass at the exposed skin on the back of his neck out of spite. Maybe he’d think it was a bug. But as his shoulders rise and fall, his breathing becomes more gradual and heavy, and I can tell he’s drifting off to sleep.

Despite my indignation over the nonconsensual surveillance, I’m a little disappointed to see him fall asleep. He’s clearly full of his own mysteries, no matter what he says about me—and I’m not even convinced, yet, that his intentions are benevolent. But he’s the only person I have to talk to, and without my Attunements, it’s going to be a long, long night.

Settling in, I spend a while attempting to entertain myself by practicing different signs. I think I’ve already forgotten a couple. It’s a little monotonous to be practicing them now, without Noli here to talk to or give feedback. But I have nothing else to distract myself with as I whittle away the hours.

Bored, I watch the dying firelight dance through my glass, casting a diffraction of beams across the ground like sunlight scattered through water. I play with them for a while, trying to focus the light and trace patterns over the ground. I can bounce the beams from one piece of glass to another, if I angle them just right, though invariably dozens of smaller dots glint off in every direction, like a mini disco ball. Actually, my main body seems to focus the light the best; it makes me wonder what I could do if I had Sculpted pieces of Attuned glass into spheres and lenses instead of just rods to use as limbs and legs.

[New Skill Obtained,] Echo says, her voice so abrupt in the otherwise quiet night that I startle, nearly dropping my glass. [Lightbeam, Level 1]

Oh? Tell me about it, Echo.

[Lightbeam: A skill which focuses a beam of light on an intended target.]

No shit. So, like, a flashlight? Does it cost any mana?

[Negative,] Echo says. [Skills do not require mana. However, Lightbeam may also be cast as a spell, wherein mana provides the source of light to be used for the skill. In this case, the intensity and duration of the Lightbeam will be dependent on the amount of mana consumed.]

I guess that makes sense. If you don’t have a source of light to focus through the glass, the spell lets you make your own. The skill itself doesn’t seem terribly useful, though. Still, I give it a try.

Alright, Echo. Let’s use Lightbeam then. As a skill, I hastily add. Not a spell. Don’t want to burn up any more of that Void stat.

[Select a target,] Echo replies.

Alright. I focus on a rock on the other side of the clearing. Immediately, my glass snaps to attention, the pieces automatically aligning to reflect the firelight onto the rock. The light is way more accurate—and concentrated—than I could have done manually. That’s neat!

Not terribly useful, but neat. I move my focus onto the ground, and the beam of light follows. I make it do a loop-the-loop, and it traces out the path I intend. I focus it on a nearby leaf, and leave it there for a minute.

No fire. Boooo. So I’ve basically got a glorified laser pointer on my hands. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with this, but I guess I can’t complain about having more skills that don’t use mana. You know what? Sure. I’ll take it.

The Lightbeam entertains me for a couple hours longer, but even that starts to grow old, and as the night stretches on, the fire dies out anyway. Eventually, I’m left in the dark with nothing to preoccupy myself but my mind.

It’s probably near midnight when the first distant howl drifts through the still night air. It’s barely a whisper. I wait for a moment, listening. The night is cold and quiet. No sound from birds. An occasional chirp or click of an insect.

Perhaps I imagined it. Then, a second howl floats through the night.

A shudder prickles through my glass. The sound is unearthly. Similar to a wolf’s call but… artificial. Like it’s taken on a metallic ring. Like it’s an electronic imitation. Whatever’s wrong with the sound, I think it might be getting closer.

I cautiously retreat a few steps toward Zyneth, wondering if I should wake him. Maybe the creatures will pass us by. Maybe this is a common nightly sound. After all, I’d left Noli to keep a look out while I was busy Attuning glass. Maybe this is what she heard most nights as well. Even so, I spread my glass out, brushing over the ground, using my Elemental Radar to create a mental image of my surroundings. I can only reach a couple feet away, but any increase in “Sight” is more comforting than staring into the black.

The animal’s cry comes again, this time much closer. And it’s not alone—several other calls go up in response, and they’re not all coming from the same direction.

Shit. They’re not passing us by; they’re surrounding us.

I poke Zyneth on his arm with a few pieces of glass. Then, immediately breaking my cool, I start stabbing rather more forcefully. The howls have given way to growls and excited yips, coming from every direction now. Come on, pretty demon guy, now is not the time for some beauty sleep!

A growl from the other side of the firepit snags my attention away from Zyneth. Pinpricks of green glow in the dark, eerily reminiscent of the bonefangs, but these dots of light are further apart and much higher off the ground. And when the creature it belongs to steps into the moonlight, the similarities—and differences—become all too apparent.

The creature might have been something like a wolf when it was alive. It’s enormous, at least four feet tall, and patches of fur—or what might be moss and decayed leaves—cling to its emaciated hide. But its head is a familiar visage; all white bones, with tiny green flames glowing in each empty eye socket.

I Check the beast stalking toward me.

[A result of the Black Spire’s necrotic energy spilling into the surrounding wildlife, these predators are drawn to the scent of magic, and only hunt at night. Once their canines have latched on their prey, they can drain their target’s mana—and lifeforce—in under a minute,] Echo says.

[Level 19: Nightbane.]